


Denial Isn't Just a River in Egypt

by daikenkai



Series: SP Drabble Bomb [1]
Category: South Park
Genre: Denial, Dialogue Heavy, F/M, Gen, I am a slut for dialogue sry not sry, Internalized Homophobia, Language, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-23
Updated: 2018-02-23
Packaged: 2019-03-22 21:41:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13773150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daikenkai/pseuds/daikenkai
Summary: He just hates his stupid, faggy vampire fucking face. He hates him so much. But especially how hot he is. They were so used to hearing him go on about him that they could predict what he'd say before he'd say it.Written for the February 2018 Drabble Bomb, Prompt: Denial.





	Denial Isn't Just a River in Egypt

**Author's Note:**

> **Denial**.
> 
> I love writing dialogue between the goth kids. I could write that shit all day. This shit is definitely a drabble tho, haha. I kept wanting to make it longer but I couldn't think of what else to do. Short and sweet wins the race, yeah? I dunno.

“I hate him. I hate him and his faggy, stupid fucking vampire fucking face.”

“We know.” A sigh from Michael. An eyeroll from Henrietta.

“What did he do now?” Henrietta turned around to be downwind enough to light her cigarette. When she made eyes with Pete his jaw was clenched and he was angrily kicking at the gravel beneath his feet.

“He’s just…. He exists. We’re in high school now, isn’t he too old to be doing that vampire shit?”

Abject silence.

Henrietta and Michael exchanged glances and rolled their eyes in unison, going back to scrolling on their phones and discussing how the Britney wannabes don’t realize how much pain they are actually in, forcing themselves to listen to pop music. They’d been through this song-and-dance so many times before that they could entertain what he was saying with their eyes closed. 

Pete threw a cigarette at them for daring not to listen and shakily pulled one out of the pack in his hands for himself. He almost dropped it thrice before it landed between his lips. Even the burn of nicotine wasn’t easing his nerves. “I don’t know why his face pisses me off so much, but it fucking  _ does _ .”

Michael was the one to roll his eyes now. “Have you ever considered, I dunno, maybe you  _ like  _ him?”

“He’s a fucking doucher. Fuck him.” Pete was still jittery and was on his second cigarette in as many minutes.

“Doucher or not, I think you like him.” Henrietta flicked her ashes onto the dock and shrugged. “You’re always going on about how much you hate him, and for what? Turning out to be insanely hot? Not like he can help it. He  _ is _ insanely hot and Michael agrees.”

Pete’s mouth was agape which caused snorts and chuckles to erupt from his counterparts. “He fucking  _ is _ hot, isn’t he. God, I hate him.” Pete looked up and across the way saw Mike with his devoted followers. His stupid, perfect hair, and his heterochromatic eyes (he had learned what that word even  _ was _ to describe him, ugh), his perfect skin, his makeup, the way his voice sounded when he was flirting to make someone listen to him… He was like a cult leader, all good looks and charm, leading unsuspecting victims to a life of debauchery. Vampirism was worse than a cult. Especially Twi-tard vamps. Who would ever want to drink Clamato juice and wear the shit they wore?

“So, like, just go fuck him already.”

Henrietta smacked Michael for that and in the process he’d moved close enough to her that her thigh was pressed flush against him. “Michael, don’t be vulgar. Pete. You know we don’t care if you like him, right? Aside from be insanely annoying, he hasn’t actually…  _ done _ anything to us. And he’s your type.” Henrietta smirked and her eyes narrowed when she caught Pete’s gaze.

“ _ Ha ha. _ Stan the doucher Raven and Mike the doucher vamp. I get it.”

That wasn’t exactly what she meant, but she wasn’t going to correct him. She wanted to wait for him to smoke a few cigarettes and calm down. Pete ended up taller than her but noticeably shorter than Michael and the envy of never feeling Enough made him scrappy and hot-tempered. He was best spoken-to after being fully awake and fully nicotined.

Michael had gotten sloppy in how close he was to Henrietta and his arm was flittering way too close to the small of her back than anyone alive was meant to see. Pete managed to look over as Michael was glancing at Henrietta like she hung the moon and he smirked, tossing his cigarette to the ground and making a show of stubbing it with the toe of his creeper.

“Tell you what. I’ll do it if you do it.” He looked positively evil as he walked away.

Michael shot up and glanced at a clueless Henrietta then back to Pete. “Pete, what the fuck! What the hell does that mean?”

Pete turned around to face them and walked backwards so he’d be heard. “You idiots know exactly what it means. Don’t think I didn’t see you.” The two of them were red in the face and looked like they'd been struck by lightning. "You're goth. You're not exactly subtle." He could hear murmuring as he turned around and walked on, confident and with a pep in his stride.

They were never going to fucking admit it. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> ....to be continued (likely in Confession), if Henrietta and Michael get their heads outta their asses and just go for it! Pete's happiness is depending on them. ;)
> 
> come say hi on [tumblr](http://xigbarf.tumblr.com)!


End file.
